


An Unusual Gift From Mr. Spock

by sketchnurse



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: K/S Advent Calendar, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:16:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketchnurse/pseuds/sketchnurse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, Kirk wasn't exactly expecting this for his Secret Santa gift... but now that he has it, he might as well use it, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unusual Gift From Mr. Spock

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt: In a secret Santa, Kirk is given a buttplug/dildo and assumes it's from McCoy who protests his innocence. Kirk uses his superbrain to go through the computer records and traces the order for it back to Spock!

For the record, Kirk did not, at any point, _ever_ think that the holiday gift exchange was a good idea.  
   
For one, the pool was far too large. He had managed to pull the name of some shy ensign in Science whom he knew absolutely nothing about. Having a separate pool for the bridge crew would have promoted exclusivity, but seriously, he had no idea what to get the poor girl. As Captain, he didn’t exactly have time for research. He’d have to settle for some of the Captain’s Special Privilege Cashmere Socks, which weren’t really Captain’s Special Privilege after all, since they were sent every four months by the bagful by his mother, who, among other idiosyncrasies, was rather attached to the idea that Kirk’s feet were always cold.  
   
It wasn’t like he was re-gifting, exactly. More like… okay, yeah, it was kind of re-gifting, but half of his drawers were filled with these socks, and he was sure it got cold in the labs. Maybe he’d send along a bottle of some nice perfume, if they got a chance to visit the bazaar on Gamus II when they rendezvoused with the Potemkin. Or not. He’d been told by several girlfriends that his taste in perfume was horrible.  
   
Also, Kirk wasn’t really sure about the gift exchange because there would be lots of opportunity for embarrassment. And he knew that if one of his friends drew his name, he’d be utterly screwed, since he had a long history of pulling pranks on the bridge crew when the lull between missions got to be too much. Actually, come to think of it, Bones had had a funny look in his eye these past few days. If Bones had somehow managed to draw his name (the odds were 622 to 1, but Kirk wouldn’t put pulling a few strings past him), maybe he could weasel it out of him.  
   
He does end up getting Ensign Powell socks, but also a bag of bath salts that Sulu recommended. It’s a pretty good gift. He throws it into a gift bag and heads down to the mess hall, where group 1 is exchanging gifts.  
   
“Jim, you’re late.” Bones says as he walks into the mess. “Everyone’s been waiting on you.”  
   
“Sorry about that.” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear, and puts his gift on the table. The next thirty minutes are interesting, to say the least. He laughs at the boldness of some of the gifts, and looks on in envy as  a Lieutenant from Engineering opens a box of real Swiss chocolates, which must have cost an arm and a leg.  
   
“Captain Kirk, looks like you’re next!” He saunters over to the front of the room, trying to hide his intense curiousity. He had honestly no idea what he was going to get, although he wasn’t as anxious as he was earlier, since Ensign Powell had seemed to really enjoy her new socks.  
   
The package he's given is slim and wrapped in gold. It's also taped up quite well, which means that he spends more time opening it than he would have liked. The whole room watchs him. When he finally gets the wrapping off, a dark brown case is revealed, and he has no idea what's in it.  
   
“Well, open it!” Bones calls out. He winks at his friend, and slides the lid off. And does a double take.  
   
Sitting on a cushion of black velvet is the most beautiful dildo he had ever seen. It'ss slim, but not too slim, slightly curved, with a double set of ridges at the head, and a wonderful shade of green. He can’t figure out what it's made out of, and dpesn’t exactly want to touch it with everyone watching him. He hears a few whistles and catcalls from the crowd, and he plasters on a big smile.  
   
“Who’s it from, Captain?” a lieutenant whose name he can’t remember at the moment asks. He looks for some sort of card, but can’t find one. He hadn’t expected to. It was, after all, an unusual gift. And goddamn, he wants to try it out.  
   
“There’s no name.” he tells the lieutenant, and then the whispering starts up. He begins to make his way over to Bones, who looks like he's trying to hide some sort of laughter.  
   
“It’s not from you, is it?” he asks cautiously, and gets a stifled chortle in response.  
   
“Hell, no, Jim. Not a chance.”  
   
He ends up spending the rest of the night trying to figure out who the dildo was from, and, as expected, doesn’t have any luck. He does end up with several requests to touch it, all of which were denied, and more suggestive comments than he knew what to do with.  
   
“Okay!” he finally ends up saying, when it looks like the party is starting to get rowdy. “I’m going back to my quarters to test this thing out!” No one seems to bat an eye, and he sneaks out, fully intending to do what he said he would.  
   
   
*****  
   
He pulls it out of the case, admiring the way the material catches the light, and shivers when he thinks about how it’s _green_ , oh God, it’s _green_ and perfect and he wants it inside of him. It demands he stroke it, and he does, feels the smoothness under his fingers, the material so unnatural and synthetic and yet so perfect for what it is. He fondles the head to feel the multiple ridges and imagines the way they’ll feel inside of him. He’s had alien cocks in him many times before, with configurations he’d never dreamed of, and enjoyed almost all of them, but the simplicity of this arrangement turns him on so much more than tentacles ever have… or maybe it’s just that he knows the dildo is based off of a Vulcan cock, and knowing that, he can’t get Spock out of his head. He thought it had been bad before, but having something physical like the dildo in his hand makes his fantasies seem all the more real, even attainable. And there’s a sort of perverse pleasure in knowing that the real Spock is just on the other side of the bulkhead, having bowed out of the party earlier than Kirk to meditate.  
   
At this point, he can’t even begin to care who it’s from; he’s imagining Spock wrapping it carefully, caressing it slightly before putting it in its case, a light blush on his face to match the dildo. Or maybe he wouldn’t be blushing. Maybe Spock was as intentioned and sure about sex as he was about everything. God, that would be hot. His face set in determination as he slid fingers in and out of Kirk’s ass, his eyes steely and dark before he sucked at Kirk’s throat until he left a mark. Oh, he wanted to be marked by Spock. He’d bear all bruises with pride. He’d ignore Bones’ teasing at his next physical when he discovered all of the handprints on his ass. Spock would apply just the right amount of pressure if he spanked him. He’d make Jim call out the number of strikes, would pause between each one to gauge his reaction. Fuck, thinking about Spock and sex turned him on like nothing else. And it didn’t seem to matter as much right now, that Spock was his friend and his colleague and all of the other reasons he tried not to fantasize about him.  
   
Kirk puts the dildo down and slides his boxers off. The temperature is perfect, his sheets are soft and warm, and he’s not scheduled for any disturbances for the rest of the night. He can’t figure out what to do next; the dildo sits on the bed, begging to be used, and his cock lies on his stomach, almost twitching with every minute movement of his torso, and he wants to enjoy this. He _wants_ to make this last as long as he can, because he’s had a damn long day, and he deserves it. Obviously, whoever had gifted him the dildo thought that he deserved some sort of luxury.  
   
Kirk decides; his cock gets stroked by a practiced hand, which then rubs over the head, lightly at first, then with a bit more pressure, and _fuck_ , but that feels good. It travels down the shaft, cups his balls and begins to rub his perineum, before moving on to the opening that’s already tensing in anticipation. He relaxes himself and slips a finger in, then reaches for the lubricant sitting next to the dildo. He’s not tight tonight, hasn’t been in a while, not since seeing Spock nude on Exis II, which had triggered night after night of furious fingering, but the dildo is larger than a few fingers, and he wants the glide to be as smooth as possible. And he loves loosening himself up, loves the way his muscles relax at his touch, loves the way his asshole gets greedier and greedier as he fills it.  
   
His mouth is almost dry at the thought of having the dildo inside of him. It gets even drier with the image of Spock holding him down, thrusting it in and out of him. Spock would want to be in control, would want to be on top. And he’d love it. He’d lie there and take everything. He’d push his ass closer to whatever Spock was using, even beg Spock for more if he stopped. And the bastard would. Even now, after months of friendship, he couldn’t resist his brand of Vulcan teasing. Kirk couldn’t get enough of it.  
   
He rubs two fingers into himself, scissors them and moans, stretching his entrance further and further open, until he knows he can fit three, maybe even four fingers in. He starts with three, resisting the urge to thrust them in with more force; he needs to save himself, but he’s so, _so_ turned on, and almost can’t think straight. Almost. But he knows the dildo is there, waiting to fill his ass. He can just imagine himself, spread out of the bed, shoving it in and out. He can hear the moans that’ll come out of his mouth, and the little squeaks the bed will make, and the noises the dildo and the lubricant will make, shoved in and out of his asshole. He’ll start off slow at first, then up the pace as he gets closer, until all sense of rhythm is lost and he thrusts mindlessly, inching closer and closer to climax.    
   
Kirk slides his fingers back out of his ass and lubes the dildo up. He’s so ready for this, so ready that he can’t help but touch his cock one more time. It’s leaking everywhere now, but that doesn’t matter. He’ll definitely have to change the sheets afterwards, but there’s no human at the end of the laundry chute to question the mix of lubricant and semen that will stain them.  
   
He takes the dildo and teases his entrance with it, and lets out a moan. Fuck, it’s so fucking good, so fucking—  
“Ohhhh….” He’s ridiculously far gone by now, just from that hint of penetration, lost in the moment of self-pleasure that the rest of the galaxy has been shut out, his universe reduced to the stiffness of his cock and the head of the dildo pressed against his asshole, cool and slippery, ready to start penetrating him, ready to stretch him open even wider and fill him up. So he slides it in, slowly, savouring every inch that slips inside. He thrusts it shallowly a few times, getting used to the feel of it moving, before shifting his hips to let it in even farther, and holy shit, that feels so fucking good, and he can’t help but do it again, and again, until he’s hitting his prostate and moaning like a  
whore.  
   
It’s a good damn thing that his quarters are soundproof, because that means he doesn’t need to hold back, and can react to every movement inside of him. He fills his cabin with the sound of sex, which perversely turns him on further. He can feel the head as it moves back and forth, and the ridges almost make him scream when they touch him just _there_ ; it’s the best self-loving he’s had in a long, long time, he’s already decided, though it’s not over yet. It will be soon, though, because this feels too good to slow down. He looks down and sees jade green sliding in and out of him, and it’s so damn _hot_ , even hotter than he’d expected.  
   
His cock is stiff and proud, still resting against his stomach, and he imagines Spock’s mouth on it. He’d be as good at sucking good as he is at everything: meticulous, calculated in his every action. And he’d look up at Kirk and his eyes would be full of pride at the fact that he had Kirk under his complete control. And he would be. Kirk would be helpless under his tongue. And that just makes him think about how fantastic it would be to have Spock’s tongue on his ass, rimming him and sucking him and yes, _yes_ , fuck, the thought of that just brings him so much closer.  
   
He shifts himself again, and oh, this angle’s even better than the previous one. He experiments with tightening his sphincter, and damn, that was a good idea. He’s getting close, real fucking close, and he abandons any measure of control, and the hand holding the dildo speeds up and oh, fuck, yes, _there_ , that’s it, that’s—  
   
“Unnnnhhhhh…” He bends forward slightly and comes all over the sheets and his hand and the dildo. And it’s the best fucking orgasm he’s had since that ridiculously hot Orion hermaphrodite went to town on him back in second year.  
   
The afterglow isn’t as empty as it usually is after masturbation, too, which is pretty awesome.  
   
“Thank you, mysterious Secret Santa.” he whispers sleepily, and knocks the dildo off of his bed and onto the floor. Some part of him thinks that maybe he shouldn’t leave it there, but the rest of his brain is too sexed-out to care, and he drifts off, slightly sore and pleasantly spent.  
   
*****  
   
When he wakes up, he wonders why he’s so damn sticky. It takes him a few minutes to figure out, and then he remembers, and in between wondering why he didn’t bother to clean himself up, he thinks about how fucking amazing the dildo had been. And then it hits him. The Secret Santa had been set up via ship’s computer. As Captain, and a competent hacker, besides, it would be no problem for him to get the name of the person who had been assigned his gift.  
   
After a nice, hot shower, his muscles were relaxed and his body clean. He didn’t expect to have to do too much during Alpha shift today, but that didn’t mean anything. Hopefully, because they were in a quiet part of the quadrant, they wouldn’t run into anything stupid, but you never could tell.  
   
It turned out to be surprisingly easy to talk to Spock and look him in the eye after spending the best part of his night imagining his First Officer doing various things to his ass. And Spock didn’t seem to notice anything strange, which was really, really good, since he hadn’t wanted to try and explain anything funny that might have popped up. But lunch with Spock was pleasant enough, and not made worse in any way by Kirk’s incessant daydreaming about what Spock’s O-face would look like.  
   
And, as it turned out, nothing interesting happened during his shift, so he was perfectly free to return to his quarters and determine the identity of his Secret Santa. He was getting a bit jittery, just thinking about it, which Spock did comment about as they rode the turbolift together. Kirk fed him some excuse about caffeine, and practically skipped back to his quarters. With a bit of luck, he’d know who had given him that fantastic, wonderful dildo.  
   
It took a bit longer than he’d expected to find the location of the database where the pool for the Secret Santa was located, since the computer had not wanted to be helpful at all; after that, it was even harder to hack into the actual information contained within. And then he remembered Uhura saying something about Spock, of all people, being in charge of the selection programming, and he realized why it was taking so bloody long to get into what should have been a relatively unsecured file. But, since he knew Spock’s programming style, getting into it became easier and easier, until… there. He was in.  
   
Now that he’d hacked into the database, though, he felt a strange hesitancy. Maybe he didn’t want to know who’d sent the dildo. After all, for most of the officers to send him something like that would be very inappropriate. Obviously, there was a reason their name had not come attached with the gift. But his curiousity overcame him, and he was soon searching through the list of names until he came to his own, and fuck, just like that, he was hard as a rock again, because sitting next to Kirk, James T., Capt., was S’chn T’gai, Spock, Cmmndr.  
   
The odds were against Spock getting his name, and while there was still a chance that he’d ended up with Kirk through the draw, it was overwhelmingly likely that his logical First Officer had rigged it so that he got Kirk’s name. And that was _so_ fucking hot. He could just imagine him sitting at the computer in his quarters, thoughts of what he was to give the Captain already in his mind—  
   
His door swishes open, and Kirk jolts in his seat, feeling like he’d been caught doing something wrong. He hadn’t been, obviously, since the assignments for the Secret Santa obviously weren’t top secret business, and besides, he was the goddamn Captain, and he had the right to see… important things like that.  
   
“You took longer than anticipated to access the database for the Secret Santa.” Spock says from behind him, and his voice is low and sultry, the tones from Kirk’s fantasies, professional mixed with the bedroom, and he notices how stupidly confining regulation pants are when intentionally worn a size too small.  
   
“It took me ten minutes.” he says defensively, despite himself. He’s not quite ready to turn around yet. The anticipation is even greater than it was last night. His mind boggled at the almost-sure fact that his fantasies were about to come true.  
   
“You have had since 1800 hours yesterday evening.”  
   
“I was busy.” And now he swivels his chair around, cants his hips so as to put himself on full display. Spock licks his lips, staring unashamedly at the outline of Kirk’s penis, and his captain smiles, ready now to get Spock right where he wants him: on top of him. “Had to test the merchandise so I could tell the sender if I liked it.”  
   
“You found it satisfactory?”  
   
“Very much. But I am wondering… why that particular gift? It’s a bit of an… unusual choice.” His smirk grows, and he can see Spock swallow. Obviously, his First Officer had expected to sweep in and seduce him. He hadn’t counted on the game Kirk wanted to play. But Kirk loved games. And he loved winning. After winning, and hopefully making Spock at least slightly uncomfortable, he’d of course let the Vulcan have everything he wanted. There was no point in resisting after a certain point, after all.  
   
“I have noticed the tension you carry in your shoulders… Captain.” Kirk smiles more widely at the title; for once, he doesn’t mind Spock not calling him Jim. “We have not had the opportunity for more recreational shore leaves in 3.192 months, and I am aware that you often use them as an opportunity for sexual release. Knowing this, it was only logical that I attempted to obtain a device which could offer you more satisfaction than conventional masturbation. I determined that that particular make had the highest level of customer satisfaction.” Perfectly logical, of course. He hadn’t expected anything less.  
   
“And the green colour?” He pauses to let Spock think about the answer, but he doesn’t end up needing the time. Spock raises his eyebrows, looking into Kirk’s eyes with a kind of hunger Kirk can’t wait to experience fully, and says, “Obviously, Captain, the colour and specific shape were chosen to be a facsimile of my own phallus.” Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck fuck fuck _fuck_.  
   
“Oh.” he says weakly, his throat suddenly dry. He had been kidding himself; Spock was in complete control here. And he was staring at the growing wet spot on Jim’s trousers, which wasn’t helping, only making Kirk so turned on he could feel it in every inch of his body. He feels the air crackle as Spock steps carefully closer. Every movement is graceful, and betrays the hidden strength hidden under the uniform.  
   
Was Spock going to take him right on his chair? He’d have to ride him, of course; that would require getting up, which Kirk didn’t particularly feel like Spock had the patience for. Maybe he’d have a hot Vulcan on his lap, pressing every inch of his body against Kirk’s, marking him like in his fantasies, leaving small bruises on his neck, his collarbone, his chest, and he’d have to go to Bones afterwards to get them removed, and he’d have to tell Bones where he got them from, and—  
   
And now Spock is standing in his personal space, and everything feels hot and heavy, almost too hot and heavy; it’s almost too much to feel when nothing has happened yet. He looks up at Spock, trying to feel some of his usual cockiness, and he’s mostly successful. There’s no mistaking the way Spock stares at him, a starving man at a feast.  
   
“Like what you see?” he asks before he can resist, and that eyebrow goes up again.  
   
“Obviously.” His breath has sped up considerably, and his heart pounds in his chest. He wonders if Spock has changed at all, physiologically. He has the strangest urge to reach over and touch Spock’s side, see how fast his heart is beating. And there’s a strange lack of what to say next, because all he needs is for Spock to do something, to take control of him, take what he wants. He’d give him everything. Wants to give him everything. Wants Spock to want everything.  
   
They stare at each other for a few moments, each wanting the other to make the first move. And Spock seems barely reigned in, like his control is finally starting to slip away completely, and the thought of that is also mind-bogglingly hot.  
   
“Are you going to do anything, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asks sweetly, sliding down the chair and spreading his legs wider, pressing his flesh closer, and he could swear that Spock growls. “I don’t have all night.” Spock doesn’t even point out that his schedule is clear for the remainder of the evening.  
   
“You will relocate yourself to the bed. You will remove your clothing.”  
   
“Sure you don’t want to do that yourself, Mr. Spock?” Fuck, Spock ordering him around in the bedroom is exactly what he wanted, but he can’t help but try to push for more. Spock’s eyes flare, and he suddenly finds himself out of the chair and over Spock’s shoulder. His erection presses into Spock’s chest, and for the few steps that they move, he tries to increase that sweet pressure, but he finds himself thrown onto the bed before success. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the hot and heavy Vulcan on top of him, where he belonged, face pressing into his neck and—  
   
“Are you sniffing me?”  
   
“Affirmative. You have a most pleasing scent.” Kirk lets a leg travel up Spock’s thigh, which seemed to remind him that he had not yet unclothed him. He seems loath to leave Kirk’s neck, though; he presses exactly the right kind of burning kisses and Kirk moans, wanting more, wanting—  
   
But Spock moves away and surveys him; he must look quite the sight, erection trying in vain to escape the confines of his trousers, leaking precome, chest moving with the speed and intensity of his breathing, lips parted in anticipation. And he loves knowing that all of it was Spock’s doing, and he loves knowing that Spock knew that too.  
   
One of Spock’s sinfully graceful hands is undoing the buttons on his trousers. They tease him, detouring downwards to lightly touch his cock through the fabric, and he hisses as the hand becomes bolder, tracing the shape of him, almost gripping him before coming back up to slide the trousers away and reveal the bare flesh available to him. And Kirk smirks at the way Spock swallows again, seeing his cock swollen and wet and begging for some kind of attention, since he’d gone commando that morning. A much better idea than he’d ever anticipated.  
   
And then the hands are on bare flesh, and Kirk arches his back on the bed, because Spock’s touch is _perfect_. He knows the right amount of pressure and the right speed to move at, and where to linger, and how he’d expected anything less from his First Officer, he doesn’t know, but this is utter bliss. He can’t tear his eyes away from the sight, until Spock looks up from his cock and up to his face, and Kirk sees the decision in his eyes.  
   
The hand on his cock becomes less careful, since Spock had moved from the foot of the bed to cover Kirk with the length of his body again, and he’s licking his way into Kirk’s mouth, and fuck, but that tongue is just as skilled as the hand. He tries to find his way into Spock’s mouth, but he can’t fight against the torrent of Spock’s obvious determination to taste every inch available. That doesn’t even matter though, since the touches of his tongue against Spock’s are enough, are hotter than any kiss he’d ever had before. And that hand is still touching him, although less insistently, and he can’t imagine anywhere he’d rather be.  
   
He pulls Spock’s head down further, and if he’d thought they were kissing before, he had definitely been mistaken, because this kind of complete devouring had to be the pinnacle of the act. His hips surge forward to the rhythm that Spock’s tongue has set, and he feels answering thrusts come down to meet him. They were both still far too clothed, but he can’t find the motivation to fix that, since Spock’s lips and tongue and teeth have rendered him utterly useless.  
   
But Spock seems to have things on track, once again. Without breaking his rhythm, he reaches down to tease at the edge of Kirk’s shirt before lifting it, revealing more flesh. And he can tell that Spock is itching to taste it. The kiss is broken so the shirt can be lifted over his head, and God, it feels good to be looked at like that by Spock. But his First Officer is definitely over-dressed. There is, of course, only one way to fix that.  
   
He reaches a hand out and grabs the waist of Spock’s trousers, pulling him closer in the process, and begins to work on the buttons. He doesn’t have the patience to tease him like he’d been teased; just working open the buttons requires enough concentration. He’s rewarded quickly enough, though; he slides the trousers down and off, and does the same with the briefs underneath, and then he’s looking at his First Officer’s cock.  
   
He must have been staring for longer than was necessary, since Spock shifts down and spreads his legs in a reasonable imitation of Kirk's earlier behaviour and says, voice heavy with amusement and arousal, “Do you like what you see?”  
   
“Very, very fucking much, Mr. Spock.” he finally breathes. It looks like the goddamn dildo, except a hundred times better, and his asshole twitches at the thought of having it inside of him. And Spock _would_ hold him down. He’d know exactly what he wanted, and he would hold him down and thrust into him and fuck him until they both saw stars.  
   
Spock takes his shirt off in one swift movement, lowers himself back onto Kirk and kicks his trousers off, and finally they’re both naked. Kirk’s legs spread wide and wrap themselves around Spock’s back, and his cock is trapped between them, and Spock starts to move, starts to force their bodies together, every movement producing a new and awesome combination of flesh, and he moves from Kirk’s mouth to Kirk’s neck and sucks, sucks hard enough for Kirk to scream.  
   
“Fuck. Fuck, that feels good, Spock, don’t fucking stop—”  
   
“I was not planning on it.”  
   
“Shut up and get back to what you were doing.” He can feel Spock raise an eyebrow against his neck, but there’s otherwise no response. He feels a tongue lick a stripe up his neck, back up to his face and then they’re kissing again. Kirk’s hands start travelling downwards, stopping when they reach Spock’s ass, which flexes deliciously every time he moves.  
   
“Spock, Spock, I need you to fuck me, I need you to fuck me right now.” He can tell that Spock has no objections, for his hands travel downwards and settle on Kirk’s posterior, massaging and kneading until they reach his entrance. And then they start rubbing his asshole and then pushing into it, which is so fucking _good_. “Unnhhh…”  
   
And then they stop. He glares at Spock through his arousal, but Spock merely looks at him, and his attempt to look unmoved through his obvious arousal is more successful than Kirk could ever be capable of.  
   
“Where is the dildo?” he asks, and fuck if Kirk can remember.  
   
“I have no idea, Spock. Can you just hurry up and stick that thing in me? I’m dying here.” Spock doesn’t appear to listen to him, though. He spots the dildo quickly enough, which makes Kirk happy.  
   
“I will have to clean it. It was left on the floor.”  
   
“Oh, Jesus, Spock don’t do that, I can’t wait that long, just fuck me, we can play with that later.” But it’s clear that Spock has included the dildo in his plans, and doesn’t want to leave it out. It’s three agonizing minutes before Spock returns from the fresher, but it turns out to be worth it when Spock pours lubricant onto his hole and starts stretching it. And Kirk can tell that every noise he makes arouses Spock further. It’s fucking _awesome_.  
   
It’s then déjà vu, since Spock teases his asshole with the head of the dildo, like Kirk had done to himself the previous evening, and because it’s Spock, it’s a million times better. Spock's able to control the teasing, and soon Kirk is ready to beg him for something harder and faster than the slow thrusting he’s getting.  
   
“Turn over.” Kirk does so eagerly, and then, just like in his fantasy, Spock has one hand pressed against his back, holding him down, and the other thrusting the dildo in and out of his ass, and he’s _finally_ picked up the pace a bit. And it’s like he _knows_ all of the right angles already, no need to experiment, just getting right to it, fucking Kirk’s ass with the dildo, pressing himself against Kirk’s back to suck at his neck again before coming back up and giving more attention to working it in and out.  
   
“Oh, fuck yeah, just like that, Jesus Christ— do that again, yeah, fuck, push it in harder, fuck— hey, why’d you stop?”  
   
“I am going to penetrate you now.”  
   
“But you’re already—oh, fuck.”  The dildo slides out of his ass, and he knows Spock is teasing him with the slowness, and the small pushes back in, but finally his ass is empty and it’s the worst situation in the world. He can feel Spock staring at him, and that makes it a little better, but couldn’t he hurry up and fill him up with that hot Vulcan cock, already?”  
   
“On second thought,” Spock says, and his voice is so thick with lust Kirk can feel it. “I will not penetrate you yet.”  
   
“What the fuck, Spock? No, you need to stick that thing in me now, I’m dying— ohhhhhh.” And now Spock’s fucking awesome tongue is pressed into his asshole, rimming him with great care, and that’s great, but he needs more, so he thrusts his ass into Spock’s face, and Spock gets the message, because now he’s pushing his tongue into him, licking inside of him, and that’s so good, so good that he can’t form coherent words, can only moan in encouragement.  
   
And he doesn’t even mind when the tongue disappears, because he knows what’s coming next, and he’s so fucking right because he feels a real cockhead slip inside him, teasing him again, before the rest of it follows in one smooth glide.  
   
“Yes, yes, Spock, fuck me, harder, yeah, like that, just like that, unnnhhh…” He feels both of Spock’s hands hold him down while he thrusts in and out and in and out and everything smells like sex, everything sounds like sex, everything feels so fucking wonderful and he was right, Spock knows exactly what he wants, exactly how he likes it, just this side of rough.  
   
And orgasm is fast approaching. He’s going to come all over the sheets again, and Spock’s going to come up his ass… fuck, that’s hot, fuck, that’s so fucking hot, he’s not going to last, not with that Vulcan cock pounding him like that, not with Spock muttering words in Vulcan above him, oh, no, he’s not lasting at all…  
   
“You gonna come, Spock? You gonna come up my ass, oh, fuck, no, go harder, harder, yeah, I’m gonna fucking come and you’re going to come up my ass, it’s going to feel so good, fuck…”  
   
“Yes… _yes_ …” He can feel the moment Spock climaxes. The flood of semen fills him as Spock slides out, after one final thrust, and then Kirk’s gone, he’s fucking gone, so gone that he passes out and doesn’t wake up until he feels a warm cloth on his ass, cleaning the come and lubricant. It’s strangely sweet.  
   
“Hey.” he says stupidly, and is treated to one of Spock’s almost-smiles.  
   
“Hello, Jim.” They stare at each other for a few blissful minutes as Spock finishes cleaning them, and Kirk’s starting to think things about Spock he’d never let himself think before, like how he could get used to the Vulcan in his bed, how he could see himself falling in love with him.  
   
“You know, for a little while yesterday, I thought maybe Bones had given me the dildo as a joke.” Spock, to his surprise, turns away slightly and blushes.  
   
“Jim, I must admit that the doctor was involved in the… gift. I asked his advice to determine the best way to communicate my intentions. The dildo was his suggestion.”  
   
“Oh.” That has to be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for him, because asking Bones about his sex life was never a good idea, and he was always grumpier around Christmas, not being able to see his daughter. “Well, it obviously worked.”  
   
“Obviously.” Spock agrees, and pulls him into a kiss. And Kirk’s mind starts thinking again, and the idea of the two of them together starts making more and more sense. But before he can get farther, well, Spock’s hand goes somewhere that tended to disconnect his higher brain functions. That didn’t matter, though. He’d have plenty of time to think about it later.


End file.
